


11 Blocks

by BeckNoir



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Based on a song, Canon Continuation, Christmas Fluff, FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, Lawyer Peter Hale, M/M, Peter Has Feelings, Peter gets called out on his stupidity, Peter is an Idiot, Steter Secret Santa 2019, This is basically a hallmark film in written form
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21896596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeckNoir/pseuds/BeckNoir
Summary: Peter breaks Stiles's heart and then runs away to New York to try forget all about him and Beacon Hills. 3 Years later thanks to fate, or maybe just meddling friends, the pair meet again.Peter now has to decide if he's going to fight for Stiles forgiveness, or if he'll let him walk away forever.Based loosely on the song 11 Blocks by WrabelSteter Secret Santa 2019
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 15
Kudos: 262
Collections: Steter Secret Santa 2019





	11 Blocks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MizzRicki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizzRicki/gifts).



> So this is my Steter Secret Santa present for mizzricki! 
> 
> If the image doesn't show up it can be viewed here  
> https://ibb.co/864fchw
> 
> The accompanying Spotify playlist can be found here https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0AKULAKHmr196AHLung2KW?si=rS26dhIzRUKb-Z-8Wj_T_g
> 
> Happy Holidays y'all!

Peter Hale is about ready to start believing in a higher power on one rather cold and dreary Friday evening in December.

Why, you ask? Because he's become absolutely 100% convinced someone or something up there is fucking with him. Making him dance to their pretty tune and then laughing their ass off at his expense.

It's also officially the last time he does anything nice for someone he doesn't really know.

Peter had finished his work early for once, to his unending delight. Well, until he had been strong-armed into taking flowers to some low-level staff member that was currently in Mount Sinai Hospital having a baby. He'd grumbled about it the entire walk from his office to the hospital, even though it was a grand two blocks away. But he is Peter Hale after all, and its the principle of the matter that counts after all. 

Winter in New York is both painfully depressing and yet sickeningly 'Hallmark'. It's a sensation that forces Peter to make sure he spends most of it under the influence of very potent alcohol. He's a California man at heart, so he naturally starts complaining about the weather from the end of August onwards. However, this is no amount of snow, sleet and bone-chilling winds in the world that could make him return to Beacon Hill, California.

He will freely admit to anyone that asks that he ran away from Beacon Hills. Anyone with a brain and at least a sliver of self-preservation would run from that place the second they can. What he won't so freely admit is the exact reason why he ran from Beacon Hills. Never mind the wealth of terrible memories, the constant worry of attack and the fact the place was just a general hellscape with truly awful real estate prices. Peter had run from Beacon Hills because he'd finally found happiness and it had scared him shitless.

In and amongst all of the murderous beasties, geriatric-organised genocide and mopey teen angst, Peter had fall head over heels for the ridiculous yet brilliant Stiles Stilinski. Hook, line and sinker, he had fallen harder than a brick dropped from the top of the empire state building. Not at first though mind, because at first Stiles had been an uncoordinated and incessant teenager that was responsible for at least a good portion of Peter's misery while living in Beacon Hills. He'd always liked Stiles though, from the moment Peter watched him he bolt across the lacrosse field to protect a girl that hardly knew he existed. Peter hadn't even particularly held it against the boy when he'd launched a Molotov cocktail at him and made him burn all over again. Truthfully while Peter enjoyed their banter and considered Stiles by far the most impressive member of Scott McCall's little pack, that still hadn't counted for much. Peter hadn't even particularly cared when the boy left for Quantico to join the FBI.

Until one day when Stiles rolled back into Beacon Hills like a whirlwind after been stationed at the FBI field office in Sacramento. The change in him was instantly noticeable, and Peter had swiftly re-assessed his opinion on him. Gone were the childish insecurities, lanky flailing and painfully human fragility that accompanied his youth. Instead, what returned was an undoubtedly powerful man, secure in his worth and confident in his abilities. Peter would also be a lying liar that lies if he didn't admit that whatever training Stiles had undergone had done wonders for his physique. 

So when Stiles had cornered him after his first pack meeting back and asked Peter out on a date, well it certainly hadn't required much convincing to accept. Peter knew he was absolutely, wonderfully and royally screwed the moment Stiles spotted him walking into the restaurant for their date and had lit up like the goddamn sun.

Peter was more than used to people looking at him with want or desire, he was well aware of his own good looks after all. But it had thrown him for a curve-ball seeing someone just so genuinely happy to see him and spend time with him.

They'd surprised the entire pack two weeks later when Stiles had dramatically announced they were dating. To Peter's intense amusement Stiles then valiantly ripped into anyone that had anything less than congratulations to offer them. 

To Peter's unending surprise, it hadn't even taken that long for them all to come round to the idea and become genuinely supportive. "You're grossly good together," and "We all should have seen it sooner," were statement and sentiments offered from all. Hell, John had even clapped him on the shoulder and called him son the first time Peter went round to the Stilinski family home for dinner.

So for the first time since the fire, Peter had been happy. Stupidly, deliriously happy in such a way that he didn't even care that it made the pack just a little bit less afraid of him.

Which meant of course that Peter had to fuck everything up in spectacular style.

Peter had gone into town on a whim one day when a particularly tricky case had him about ready to lose his mind, and he'd become tired of looking at the same four walls. Walking out of his favourite little bakery in downtown he'd seen to his surprise Stiles and John walking into a jewellery store. It was like the earth had started spinning on its axis for a minute as he watched Stiles peruse engagement rings.

Engagement rings. 

For him.

Stiles was going to ask him to marry him.

Panic had set in, and instantly the shutters had gone down on his emotions. 

Two days later, Peter had orchestrated a volatile argument with Stiles over the something so trivial he doesn't even remember what it was now. A week later he'd pack up all his belongings and hightailed it to New York. He'd waited no time in putting his apartment up for sale and changing his number, cutting off all contact with everyone in Beacon Hills.

Peter had known he was making a terrible mistake the second he landed in New York, and he's had to live with that for the last three years.

It didn't help, of course, that his best friend and business partner liked to remind him regularly that he gave up the best thing to ever happen to him.

Elena Carter was the kind of woman that walked into a room and knew it was hers to command. A fierce and striking woman that Peter had been instantly drawn to when they met the first day of law school all those years ago. Continually vying for the top spot in their class, their friendship and rivalry had made them legendary at Harvard. It had been a forgone conclusion that they would work together after they passed the bar. So with a reputation already to their name, they became a frightening duo in the courtroom, capable of tearing even the most watertight of cases without breaking a sweat. When the Hale fire had happened, Elena had taken the first flight out to California, and then took regular trips to visit while he was in his coma. Almost everyone had expected her to take complete control of their firm, Hale & Carter Law, but she had refused. Their loyalty to each other was as endless as the ocean. As was Elena's belief that Peter would one day recover from the coma and for that Peter would forever be grateful. He was of the absolute conviction that everyone needed a friend like Elena in their life. Even if half the time she made him want to repeatedly bang his head against the nearest wall.

It was because of Elena that he was in his current position. Apparently, the woman in question was a good friend of Elena's wife, Jenna. If there was one thing that Elena couldn't do, it was say no to her sweet and wholesome, practically a cinnamon roll of a human, wife of 5 years Jenna. Honestly, neither could Peter.

So when Jenna had asked if Peter could drop some flowers into her friend, Elena had gently bullied him all day until he agreed. This was despite the fact Peter wouldn't have been able to pick this woman out of a police line-up if his mortal soul depended upon it. He doesn't even know her name, but if there's a universe rule, it's that Jenna gets what Jenna wants. 

So here he is, stood in the freezing cold and mildly irritated by the ridiculously flickering Christmas lights. He wonders if he should walk the roughly 13 blocks to his townhouse or call a cab. Snow has gotten down the collar of his shirt to his absolute distaste, and the bottom of his pants are getting increasingly cold and wet. All in all, his good mood at finishing early has all but disappeared.

Suddenly, it's like everything around him seems to start going in slow motion as from down the street he sees the one and only Stiles Stilinski. 

It feels like his stomach has dropped straight down into his Berluti shoes, and suddenly Jenna's bizarre request makes sense.

Adorable, innocent Jenna... _The fucking Seer_. She had used him as her goddamn errand boy to set him back up with Stiles.

He is going to kill her and her no doubt conspiring, evil and conniving wife, because this absolutely has hallmarks of Elena's handy work.

Peter is for the first time in a very long time frozen still in shock and a little bit of fear. The last three years have clearly done wonders for Stiles. By some miracle that Peter didn't even think was possible, he looks even better than the last time Peter saw him. Peter is once again reminded he is a goddamn moron for giving him up and running away. Peter watches him wandering closer, and clearly Stiles questionable sense of direction hasn't improved because he's very clearly lost. Stiles is about half a block away when he clocks Peter staring at him. Stiles similarly freezes, and Peter cringes as several undefinable emotions cross his face. Peter is ready to bolt into the steadily growing throng of people on the street until Stiles lights up with that sunshine smile, the same one that Peter first fell for. He knows he is once again irrevocably and undeniably fucked.

"Peter Hale? Is that you?" Stiles calls out as he waves wildly at him, jogging to cover the distance between them. Peter's nodding and waving in return before he even really know what he's doing. Why isn't he just running the hell away and saving them both the trouble this will inevitably stir up?

Stiles is all of what 10 feet away from him and Peter's brain has officially checked out as he tries to find the words to say. The smile has disappeared, and Stiles doesn't stop closing in on him. The next thing Peter really knows he landing on the wet sidewalk with a thud and a stinging jaw. The physical pain fades almost instantly, but his pride has fallen to the floor with him.

"You're a fucking asshole, Peter Hale. Do you have any idea how worried we've all been?" Stiles shouts down at him, and people around them are most defiantly staring and whispering.

"I'm sure Scott and Lydia could barely contain themselves with grief" Peter quips as he stands up and brushes his suit down as best as he can. The jackets ripped on the right arm where he landed, but it's a small price to pay.

"Don't be a dick, not right now. Not to me. Do you have any idea, any fucking idea, how long I waited for you to come back? For you to come to explain to me what in the seven hells kind of solvent you have been sniffing that night to get so riled up and pissy over the smallest thing? Fuck, I set up alerts for you in every field office between Sacramento and Denver just in case you had gotten mixed up in some shady bullshit. I even contacted Interpol!"

Stiles is angry, rightfully and justifiably angry, but what does he expect Peter to say? 'Sorry, I fell in love with you, and it scared me because I can't understand how anyone as wonderful as you would want to spend forever with someone as broken as me?'

Well…it is technically the truth, but that definitely wasn't going to go down well.

"Are you going to say anything at all asshole?" Stiles huffs at him, arms folded tightly in front of him.

"What do you want me to say, Stiles? What is it that you want to hear from me that will make the last three years so much easier to deal with?" Peter grinds out with a huff. Not his smartest move he knows, he can even see Stiles right eye twitch with barely contained rage. Still, there's little Peter will actually be able to say out in the open like this surrounded by so many people. 

"Nice to see you haven't changed in any way, shape or form jackass" Stiles mutters as his arms move from his chest and are shoved deep into his coat pockets. It's only then that Peter notices that Stiles is actually dressed like a functioning adult, which means he must be here in some kind of official capacity. The sudden thought that maybe Stiles is moving to New York slips like an icicle down Peter's spine. 

Stiles's face turns slightly flushed with embarrassment without warning. Awkwardly, he looks at Peter before he mumbles something that even with Peter's werewolf hearing, he has to ask to be repeated.

"I said you might as well make yourself useful and help me find my hotel" Stiles snaps, his faced increasingly flushed. Clearly, Peter isn't the only one that hasn't changed, and he smirks at the thought.

"But of course, where are you staying, sweetheart?" The endearment is out of his mouth before he registers what he's said, causing them both freeze.

_Great job there, Hale._

"The Empire on 62nd" Comes the stilted and awkward response but Peter ignores it. He's actually mildly impressed that Stiles is even anywhere close to the hotel.

"You're in luck, it's only about three blocks away." 

Peter almost immediately regrets his decision to help. The walk to Stiles hotel is one of the single most excruciatingly painful experiences of his life thus far, including the two times he was flame roasted. Their conversation is awkward and disconnected to absolutely no one's surprise. Honestly Peter would have preferred to walk in silence, but again he's convinced someone up above must have it out for him. Stiles keeps breaking up the silent walk with the most boring small talk known to man, and it's clearly bothering him not being able to have much more of an in-depth conversation. Peter has, of course, thrown up emotional barriers about 10 feet tall between the two of them. It's a rather pathetic attempt to stop himself being drawn back into the heady intoxication that is Stiles Stilinski. 

They finally reach the hotel after what feels like a century of agonising torture, Peter is genuinely convinced that hell truly is other people. He's about to cut his losses and do what he should have done to start with, which is hightail it the hell out of dodge, when Stiles clears his throat to gain Peter's attention.

"If you feel like being a decent person for once in your life and giving me a real answer to any of my earlier questions my room is 1012.I'm here till Monday. If not, then…I guess, have a nice life, Peter."

Stiles turns away and walks into the hotel without looking back. 

Peter is once again frozen like a statue as he watches Stiles walk away. It takes every ounce of control in his body not to chase after him. To not drop to his knees and grovel for any and all forgiveness Stiles has to offer. After far longer than he would admit to, with snow starting to settle into his hair, he finally seems to regain control of his faculties and turns on his heel. Once he's hailed a cab down and he's finally on his way back to the safety of his own home, he fishes his phone out of his coat pocket and hits speed-dial.

"Carter, you have ten seconds to explain why I shouldn't kill you and your scheming better half."

There's a melodic eruption of laughter at his expense on the other end of the call, and it does little to quell his growing irritation at his best friend. 

"Oh please, as if you pose any kind of threat to me Petey-boy. Did you drop those flowers in for Jenna by the way?" Elena sounds beyond smug, and Peter can't help the growl that escapes, prompting a somewhat startled look from his cab driver.

"You know damn well you didn't just send me to drop off flowers you hag. I swear to god I don't know why I'm still friends with you. He fucking punched me!"

"Good, it's about time took a fist to your pretty-boy face. I'm assuming this isn't the call I've been literally praying for, for the last three years? The one where you tell me you are finally ready to live without my loving support and constant guidance? No big plans to return to the sunny West coast with lover boy so you can deal with all those big spender Hollywood clients for us again?"

The two of them bicker over the phone for Peter's entire journey home. After tipping heavily to placate his driver, Peter all but launches himself through him front door once he gets it unlocked.

"You owe me several strong drinks you hear me? Several _very strong_ drinks before I forgive you both for this. My best suit jacket is ruined because of your meddling."

"Fine you giant baby. Meet Jenna and me at The Press Lounge at 8. Later Loser." The line clicks as she hangs up on him, and once again, a growl escapes without his consent.

Peter loses track of how long he stands in the hallway, utterly adrift in his thoughts. He can't even bring himself to turn on a light, and the silence that usually is so soothing is now painfully haunting. 

He's …conflicted. Peter has spent the best part of the last three years waking up whispering Stiles name. He's lost himself in work and alcohol and whatever warm body he can find. Without a shadow of a doubt, he knows he fucked up, that he walked out on the best person to ever happen to him. Still, the thought of getting Stiles back is as terrifying as the thought of losing him all over again. Even if Peter confessed all of his feelings and insecurities, there is no guarantee that Stiles will want anything to do with him. And that…that would be worse than letting Stiles leave without telling him the truth.

Still stood in the winter gloom and lost in his musing, his phone buzzes. Peter can't resist the urge to roll his eyes fondly when he sees it's from Jenna.

Hope you aren't stood in the dark brooding over your man pain when you should be getting ready to buy me a martini in an hour :)

Damn her and those goddamn Seer abilities. Honestly, they don't allow him even a moment of mental crisis in peace.

He does, however, take it as his cue to go get ready and finally turn on a goddamn light.

40 minutes later he's had a reasonably quick shower and changed into a more appropriate, and thankfully hole-free, suit. He's very much working on autopilot, so his senses don't even pick up that someone is outside his door. Well, until he opens it to leave and almost walks into someone. 

"Well you're looking fine, all dressed up and fancy. Going somewhere nice?"

Stood in front of him is his next-door neighbour, Conner. Out of the long list of warm bodies that Peter used to fill the Stiles shaped hole in his life, Connor was defiantly the one to appear most often. Tall and athletic with dirty blonde hair and an easy smile he was undoubtedly attractive. He also had all of the personality of a wet paper towel and the brains to match. Thankfully, however, Peter hadn't been looking for someone to solve crossword puzzles with or discuss ethics, but someone good between the sheets. And in that department, Connor definitely excelled.

Seeing him now though, so soon after seeing Stiles, had Peter feeling more than a little cheap that he would pick a rebound so…vapid.

"Office Christmas Party. Elena's insisting I make an appearance." Peter lies smoothly knowing that Elena's presence will put Connor off from inviting himself along. Elena had made her disdain for the man well known from the second she laid eyes on him, and the sentiment certainly wasn't one-sided.

Connor frowns slightly before sighing. Thankfully he doesn't even both to suggest Peter stay home, knowing full well Peter will always choose Elena over him. Peter is silently relieved.

"Well you know where I am if you want some…company afterwards" Connor gives his arm a suggestive squeeze that Peter has to resist the urge to rip off. The other man doesn't seem to notice anything unusual about Peter's behaviour and returns to his own house quickly. 

Thankfully Peter is still able to hail a cab with reasonable ease, considering the weather is abysmal. It's only about a 15 minutes drive from where he lives on 73rd in the Upper West Side to 48th in Hell's Kitchen where the bar is located, but it feels like forever. From the cab, all he can see are sickeningly sweet couples walking arm-in-arm or staring lovely at each other like they are in some kind of winter fairytale. Clearly, it's that annoying deity or spirit that's been ruining his day having some extra fun at his expense. 

It's as they approach The Press Lounge that Peter mental groans at the realisation he's been counting each block since they past Stiles Hotel on their way to the bar.

It's all he can really think about as he quietly exits the cab and with only the slightest of nods to the doorman enters the bar. It's one of his and Elena's favourite regular spots due to the fact they serve several delectable supernatural friendly drinks. It's telling that the owner even sent a Christmas card to their office last year.

He orders a round of drinks for himself and his friends before heading to one of the leather couches next to the wall of windows that lead out to the outside rooftop terrace. Usually, he likes to sit outside but considering the current icy temperatures he doesn't think his friends would appreciate it. He's barely had chance to sit down when he spots Elena and Jenna wander into the bar.

They are quite the striking picture as they walk in. Elena is 6'1 with flame-red hair and tan skin thanks to a combination of Scandinavian and Latino heritage. In contrast, Jenna is all of 5'0ft, jet-black hair and looks like she's never seen the sun. Peter's friend is currently rocking her trademark burgundy power suit while Jenna is rockabilly fashion personified. 

"How my favourite fluff ball doing?" Elena asked as she flops down onto the couch opposite Peter and grabs her drink. Jenna quickly snuggles up next to her, and Peter flashes his blue eyes and growls softly. Elena responds in kind by flashing her own alpha red eyes.

"Stop teasing him El, he has had enough to deal with today." Jenna scolds her wife lightly, and while Peter wants to thank her, he hasn't forgotten that it's her that put him in this position to start with.

"So, why exactly are you here drinking with us when you could be making things up with your man?" Good old Elena, never one to beat around the bush. Peter doesn't want to respond, so instead, he takes a very long drink from his wolfsbane infused whiskey. 

There's a brief moment of silence as Peter's stubbornness kicks in and Elena starts to grow increasingly irritated by her idiotic best friend. Jenna is looking somewhat nervously between the two because it wouldn't be the first time they've come to blows. Still, she would very much like to avoid that happening out in public. 

"Look you stubborn ass, you hurt this guy really badly, and you know you did. You and only you can apologise for that and make things right. Which is probably gonna hurt like hell but I bet it won't hurt half as much as you've hurt yourself these last three years by hating yourself," Peter finally meets Elena's eyes, and she smiles softly back at him" He might end up not wanting anything to do with you, or he might take you back, but you won't know until you try. Don't you owe it to yourself, and more importantly to him, to at least try?"

Peter knows she's right, she almost always is, but he can't entirely erase his underlying fear. The same fear that prompted him to run in the first place, that why would someone like Stiles choose to spend the rest of his life with someone as broken and burned on the inside as Peter? Wouldn't Stiles one day wake up and realise he had made a terrible mistake and leave him? Peter loved Stiles far too much to ever be able to deal with Stiles being the one to reject him. 

"Peter love, do you remember what you said to me when I ask you if I should ask El to marry me?" Jenna chirps in, and Peter rattles his brain for the memory. He shakes his head after a moment. Clearly, there's been one too many whiskeys between now and then. 

"I'll paint you a vivid mental picture, jump in at any point." Jenna grins wickedly at him, and he can't help but smile lightly back at her. "You had come to visit to sign some papers for the new office and on your first day here you went with me to help me pick out a ring. Three weeks later and just before you leave for California, you got grumpy with me because I still haven't asked her. I told you that I was just looking for the right moment, for the right inspiration. To which you said…"

"I said you don't need inspiration; you just need common sense. That it's stupid it's taking you so long to do something so obvious because the two of you are clearly meant for each other." 

Both women send him a pointed look. It's there, in the face of his own logic, that he admits defeat. Someone or something has brought the love of his life back into his life, and if he doesn't take this opportunity to fix his mistakes, then he really is a fucking moron. 

"Order your next round on my tab ladies, I'll talk to you Monday." He says as he drains the last of his drink for a little artificial courage and gets up to leave.

"Take Monday off, jet lag from here to Californias a bitch after all" Elena calls knowingly over her shoulder. As he heads out of the bar he waves in acknowledgement but doesn't look back at them.

By the time Peter has exited the building, there's a building primal urge to get to Stiles as soon as he can. There's a significantly thick layer of snow and ice on the ground, and he's definitely not wearing running shoes. However, as soon as the cold air hits his face as he walks out the door, he breaks into a run. 

He's getting more than his fair share of concerned looks as he runs the 14 block distance from the bar to Stiles hotel, but Peter quite literally couldn't care less at the moment. The Christmas lights illuminate his path, but everything is a blur. Even knowing the streets of New York as he does, he's running almost entirely on instinct at this point. 

Peter doesn't even speak to the concierge desk as he enters the hotel lobby. Instead, he heads straight for the stairs taking them two at a time. He's infinitely grateful for his supernatural stamina at this moment because if he was human, he would no doubt have keeled over halfway up the 10 flights of stairs. 

He goes by scent when he gets to the correct floor, pausing for just a moment before hammering on the door. 

There's a short moment where the silence in the corridor is all-consuming, and Peter's previous worries and fears all come crashing back. Maybe Stiles has gone out to a bar or to meet someone? Even though Peter knows full well that Stiles hates going out on Friday nights. Friday nights, according to Stiles, are for junk food and lousy television Or maybe he is just ignoring Peter to make him look like an idiot?

Jesus Christ Hale pull yourself together, he thinks to himself. Thankfully he hears footsteps behind the door before it slowly unlocks to reveal Stiles, freshly out of the shower and wearing…one of Peter's old Harvard shirts.

Peter's mouth is as dry as the Gobi desert as he drinks in the man in front of him. He'd be hard-pressed to say he's seen anything more appealing in the last three years than Stiles stood in the doorway as casually as you like and wearing Peter's old clothes. A parade of Victoria's Secret models could turn the corridor into a runway right now, and Peter would still only have eyes for Stiles.

"I didn't think you'd come honestly." Stiles admits softly as he moves to one side to let Peter into the hotel room.

"Honestly, neither did I. But The Fates decided to host an intervention for me, and so here I am." Peter says as he steps into the well-sized but modest hotel room.

"Did you…did you run all the way from your house?" Stiles asked concerned as he takes in Peters considerably frazzled outfit. Peter laughs slightly as he shrugs his soaking wet jacket off and throws it on top of a radiator. 

"Not from my house no. I was having drinks with some friends, and I realised there wasn't anywhere else I should be right now than right here." The two of them are stood in the middle of the room, staring at each other. The tension is more than palpable. 

Stiles is clearly wary and on guard. He's long been wise of Peter's silver-tongue and is in no mood to let him off lightly. Peter, on the other hand, has to resist the rather compelling urge to press himself against Stiles and kiss him senseless. It is a close call, but he refrains. He knows he hasn't earned that privilege yet, but god he hopes he can.

"So let's recap shall we?" Stiles begins "One day I swing by your apartment after work and the second I walk through the door you start screaming in my face about something. Before I even have time to wrap my head around what the fresh hell is going on, you're saying you need space and time, and maybe things aren't working. I then give you a week to calm the fuck down from whatever insanity you are dealing with. Only the next time I go to your apartment, I find it completely abandoned and a note asking me to leave my key behind." There are layers of emotion in his voice as Stiles talks, but grief, anger and confusion are the leading contenders. All Peter can do is try to swallow down his guilt. He knew this would hurt. He knew he would have to own up to what he did and how he acted. He takes a steadying breath and silently prays that Elena and Jenna aren't totally wrong about everything.

"Sweetheart I am so, _so_ sorry for running away like I did." Peter begins, and it's a challenge to keep his own voice steady and measured. "I saw you and your father in the jewellery store, and it scared me. I never really told you, but I was engaged when the fire happened. They...They died down in the basement with everyone else and so seeing you look at those rings it…It made me remember how broken I am, and all the terrible things I've done. I couldn't…I didn't…" Peter's voice cracks, and he has to avert his gaze from Stiles. He flinches slightly when Stiles places a hand on his arm, but it gives him the motivation to continue.

"I lost the only other people I loved once before. I couldn't take the chance I would have to lose you, either to someone or something or just because one day you realised you were better off without me. So I decided it would hurt less if I was the one to leave. I faked the whole argument and then ran away here with my tail between my legs. Not a day has gone by where I haven't regretted leaving you. You know I accidentally brought one of your winter coats with me, and I even thought if I sold it and got rid of it, that it would help me move on. All it did was lead me to the bottom of a whiskey bottle."

Peter finally drags his gaze back to look at Stiles, and it hurts that he can't work out what the other man is thinking, his face is such a mixture of emotions. There another painful moment and Peter prays to any deity or higher power that will listen. He prays, and he hopes, and he waits.

"God, you're officially the biggest fucking idiot I have ever met, and most of my job involves the general public so that bar is spectacularly high." Stiles snarks at him before sighing and running his free hand through his hair. 

"For so long I thought I had done something terrible, and I blamed myself so badly for making you run away" His laughter is hollow, and it stabs Peter straight through the heart "But it makes sense I guess. In some weird, messed up way that only you of all people could pull off, it makes sense. God, you are officially the hardest person in the world to love you know that? I should get a medal for this"

The world stops spinning for a heartbeat as Peter processes what Stiles is saying and hope blooms in his chest like wildflowers in spring.

"Do you mean..do you still…?"

Stiles flashes Peter that trademarked megawatt smile and Peter swears to himself at that moment he will never be the one to remove it from Stiles's face again.

"Yeah dumb-ass, I still love you."

It's all the invitation Peter needs to close the space between them, and he kisses Stiles like it's the last thing he's ever going to do. Peter can feel his heart and soul roaring in unison in triumph. At that moment, Peter wonders how he could ever think he could replace Stiles. Peter knows he never wants to be with another person for as long as he lives, and if Peter dies tomorrow, he will go a happy man. Kissing Stiles comes as natural as breathing, the noises he makes and the way he moves a familiar sensation that thrills Peter in a way nothing else can. Eventually, the two pull apart, and Peter rests his forehead softly against Stiles.

"I've missed you, my love."

"I've missed you too, idiot."

They both laugh, but neither moves away, content to soak in the presence of each other once again. 

"Would you like to stay with me until it's time to return to Beacon Hills?"

This time it's Stiles turn to look hopeful as he pulls himself away to get a better look at Peter.

"Are you serious right now? Are you gonna come back home? What about everything here?"

"I would move to a trash dump if it's where you wanted to be Sweetheart."

"Then God yes, this hotel bed does absolutely nothing for my back, and I bet you live somewhere really fancy. How far is it from here, anyway?"

"About 11 blocks…not that I was counting on the way here or anything."

\--

Bonus :) 

There's been surprisingly heavy snow over the weekend, and all flights out of New York are grounded until further notice. Peter delights in having the time to give Stiles the grand tour of New York, going for dinner, watching the Christmas lights and walking arm in arm through the snow. He feels on top of the world in a way he doesn't think he's ever felt before. Elena and Jenna love Stiles from the moment they clap eyes on him. Jenna, in particular, takes exceedingly well to Stiles. Elena and Peter exchange knowing looks of dread as the two exchange contact information while sharing increasingly embarrassing stories about their significant other.

They are hopeful that they will be able to fly back tomorrow, and Peter can't think of a better way to spend their last day in New York than lounging around the house. Snuggled up in front of his open fireplace, Stiles is tucked into the space between Peter's legs with his back flush against Peter's softly rumbling chest. It's a truly perfect moment for the two as Stiles chatters animatedly, catching Peter up on all the events and goings-on in Beacon Hills that he's missed in the last few years. It's a beautiful moment, and Peter knows it's now or never.

Carefully, so as not to alert Stiles to anything, he slips his hand into his back pocket and pulls out a small black wooden box.

"Stiles, my darling, I've spent the last three years regretting leaving you behind, and because of that, I was given the wonderful gift of hindsight. It showed me that I would rather spend the rest of my life with you no matter what may come than spend even one day without you. I know this is sudden and somewhat ironic all things considered, but…Will you marry me?" Stiles gasps as the box opens to reveal a black titanium band with the Hale triskele engraved into it.

"This ring belonged to my father. When my parents passed, Talia got our mothers ring, and I got fathers. I would be honoured if you would have it."

Stiles twists slightly to face Peter before planting a bruising kiss, tears running rapidly down his face.

"Yes you idiot, of course I will."

Peter grins brilliantly down at the man he loves as he carefully slips the ring onto Stiles's finger, and is delighted that it fits perfectly. Almost like it was meant to be there all along.

The cold winter season continues to rage outside but goes unnoticed by the pair, warmed by the fire and each other. The road ahead wasn't guaranteed to be all smooth sailing, but for now, things are just perfect.


End file.
